Page 77 of The Strength Of A Woman

When he showed up, I looked like I was eating, but to me, it was almost like a moment of prayer.

Last night, for the first time in my life, I said a prayer––one that Nona taught me––before I went to bed.

I was thankful that things had shifted for me and I’d been pulled out of that vipers' nest.

I was so deep in thought at the table that I didn’t realize Callum was watching me, and when I lifted my gaze and glimpsed his expression, my heart sang a little.

He looked at me like a man in love would look at someone.

I hadn’t been the recipient of that ‘look’ before, so it was more of an intuitive thing for me.

I hadn’t had anything in my memory to compare his stance and expression with.

He was studying me with a thoughtful look on his face as if he wanted to feed his soul with whatever I had expressed.

It was peace, for sure. I was at peace.

I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I have faith that things are moving in the right direction, and having Callum’s protection gives me confidence in the process.

I’m also ready for this to end, and if it does and we’re still together, I’ll still consider myself lucky.

There is a third possibility, but I don’t want to think about it at length right now.

Something might break my trust. He might not be the man I think he is, and he might betray me in the end.

My heart tells me I shouldn’t worry about this, but my brain says that I’ve seen it before, so I should get ready for anything.

It’s only a remote possibility, and I don’t want to ruin the time I have with him by thinking about it.

Exhilarated, I look around the room and spot the small suitcase by the door, but first, I need to call Rory.

I told her that, regardless of what happened, we’d keep in touch.

I look for my phone, snatch it up, and call her, wondering if she has already boarded her plane.

The first call goes unanswered, but I insist.

She answers the second call.

“Hey,” she says.

Smiling, I plop myself onto the bed and lean against an armful of pillows.

“You won’t believe it,” I start, smitten like a woman in love. “I’m in one of the most beautiful historic houses in Syracuse."

“Woohoo. I’ve heard the good news.”

“Who told you?”

“Nona. On my way out.”

She’s panting, so I quickly ask.

“Where are you?”

“I’m walking to my gate. I’m here early, so we can talk for a few more moments.”

“Why the rush?” I ask, suddenly aware of the change of plans.